


Crush

by Abyssiniana



Category: Catfish: The TV Show, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety, Catfish AU, Lance likes to meddle in affairs that don't exactly concern him, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, MTV Catfish, Phone Sex, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHEITH - Freeform, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexting, body issues, broklance, but he tries to be a good friend, keith/shiro - Freeform, kind of, past/present vignette play, suggestive content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 23:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16396757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssiniana/pseuds/Abyssiniana
Summary: My piece for Keith Baby Bang 2018! (Art to be added later)«Takashi Shirogane… How real are you?»--the MTV Catfish AU no one asked for





	1. i.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [Zanywriter!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zanywriter/pseuds/zanywriter) They were super sweet and made me feel much more confident with this piece! <3 Thank you a million stars, dear! ♡♡

**_i._ **

 

Keith took more than a moment to gather himself in the passenger seat of the rented jeep, hands curling into fists around the fabric of his tight leggings. His heart raced inside his chest, a beat out of sync, threatening to rip through. Breathing seemed like an impossible task, vines of uncertainty restraining the function of his organs, returning an acidic taste of that morning’s breakfast back to his mouth. He ran his fingers through his onyx colored hair, pushing the bangs back only to have them stubbornly flopping down on his forehead; that was when he realized he was sweating, because  _ fuck, how could he not?  _

 

In this unfamiliar neighborhood, across the surprisingly kept green lawn, past the path of stone that lead to a stranger’s house, and beyond the white door of the porch, laid nothing more than the truth.

 

Who had he been talking to? Whose voice had he been falling asleep to? Whose arms had he been dreaming of being enveloped in? An online relationship of months coming down to the veracity - or not - of sweet text messages and the secret whispers over the phone so late at night. 

 

“Are you ready for this, Keith?” Nev asked with patience, and Keith wasn’t sure he had an answer that didn’t involve throwing up immediately over the TV host.

 

Ready as he’d ever be, he supposed, reaching for the handle and seeing himself out of the jeep, to meet the producers and a circle of cameras pointed at his face, the several lenses searching for the best angles to expose the rawness of his scorching feelings.

 

There was fear; loads of it. Anxiety. A hint of desperation and regret, he  _ should go back, let him go back home--. _ But most of all, love. So much love he held for this stranger, tangled with a greater amount of fear for the possibility of having been talking to someone else, someone who’s not Takashi Shirogane, and on top of that, his embarrassment would be broadcast on national television.

 

Part of him wanted to be mad at Lance for writing the email to the TV show without his permission, but on the bright side of things (the scarce little slit of bright light in this whole messed up situation), if not for his roommate’s tendency to meddle in the affairs of others, he would never be as close as he was to uncover the ghost he had met on the Internet.

 

Was it all a lie? A twisted play by the hands of some fucked up catfish? 

 

He was terrified of the truth, but he deserved it and he was about to get it; good or bad, it was closure and that was all he could ask for.

 

Right next to him, Max Joseph held up a portable video camera, turned towards the entrance of the small house their research had lead to. Nev looked over his shoulder quite often to either make sure Keith wouldn’t flee or to double check the presence of the cameras which accompanied him. Each crack of the wooden steps seemed to stab at Keith’s little, fragile heart. He wanted to turn back, but what would that gain him? Was the fantasy worth living without ever knowing? Without the physical touch, he found himself craving? 

 

Was it such a sin to want Takashi Shirogane for himself? 

 

Keith saw Nev knock bluntly on the door, ignoring the physical existence of the doorbell right next to the knob. His hands trembled. His shirt was glued to the end of his back because that was just how hot it could get in Arizona. Not that he wasn’t used to the warm weather, but he was low-key praying for rain for once in his life. Anything to wash away his shame, to rid him of the tears he tried not to cry -  _ and Good Lord -  _ as the door seemed to be opening,  Keith closed his eyes momentarily, delaying the imminent shock.

 

_ Takashi Shirogane… How real are you? _


	2. ii.

**_ii._ **

 

_ Dating apps are dumb _ , was the first thought Keith had in mind as he lazily rolled out of bed, smartphone secured in hand. He typed fast with practiced ease, answering the enthusiastic emoji-filled good morning text he received with a shorter, “mornin,’” Headed for the shower, Keith had to wait for the water to warm up to a more pleasing enough temperature before stepping in. As he washed himself, he could only think of how he should use more emojis in his online chats, because the other person might think he’s dull, or boring, or something. Then again, Keith tried not to care too much about it, and the first thing he did once he was dry, was to pick up his phone again and smile at the fact that he had a missed call.

 

He missed Shiro’s voice very much, so he called him right back, delivering a proper good morning.

 

* * *

 

_ Dating apps are foolish _ , but there was nothing more ridiculous than the need to take pictures of every single meal you had and send it to someone. It was just breakfast, he knew that, but it was kind of easier to answer the question, “so, what are you up to?” by sending a picture of what he was, in fact, doing. Same with chores. It was just… faster.

 

And it was interesting to receive a picture of a proper meal in return, with a warm glass of soy milk, buttered toasts and an apple, and try and gather as much of the surroundings framed in the photo as he could. That carpet was ugly as fuck; who the heck had a carpet in the kitchen anyway? The wooden flooring suggested that he might be eating in the living room? Was that a notebook in the corner? The damned man never stopped studying, did he?

 

The caption of the picture read “ **_THIS is what you should be eating, a balanced meal to give you strength for your day ｖ(⌒ｏ⌒)ｖ_ ** ”

 

Keith snorted at the generous serving of  _ Cocoa Krispies _ before him and took a spoonful to his mouth, chewing loudly on it as if proving a point to someone who couldn’t exactly see him.

 

**_[Keith, 07:37 AM] Come and make me proper breakfast, then_ ** , he challenged, receiving a digital blushy reaction in return.

 

_ Cute. _

 

* * *

 

_ Dating apps are a blow to one’s self-esteem _ ; Keith knew this because his camera roll was filled with embarrassing attempts at a selfie, in which he felt so damn ugly. This constant need to impress wasn’t healthy, he never saw the appeal when other people did it. He felt that not even with all the available filters he could look the least bit appealing to the man on the other side of the connection. Shiro, on the other hand…

 

Keith stroked his screen pitifully, admiring the sharp structure of Shiro’s beautiful face, and then his shirtless body, because  _ wow _ … a bathroom mirror selfie was so cheesy but not for him, not when Shiro looked so effortlessly handsome and so breathtaking with a short smile and a little pinch of red on his ears.  _ Dating apps are stupid _ because he was too deep into Shiro, too fast. He forced himself to choose one photo that wasn’t blurred, and sent it, trying to not think too much on it. He still did.

 

**_[Shiro, 06:12 PM] You look adorable, Keith. (⊃‿⊂)_ **

 

Oh, heck, he was a blushing mess.

 

* * *

 

_ Dating apps are for desperate people who couldn’t do shit by themselves. _ Wasn’t it obvious? If you couldn’t get laid, you’d search for some type of fake temporary intimacy in a digital realm. Not Keith, though; he was a lone wolf and he was fine just like that. 

 

Maybe that was what he thought before; but Shiro, Shiro had a way with him, and that way made him the mess he was; lips parted as they gasped for air in the emptiness of his bedroom, a hand around his cock, pumping it to the fantasy he was hearing across the phone.

 

**_“I’d have my hands all over you, Keith, pin you down to that bed and make you mine. I bet you’ll feel so good on me, baby, I just know it, you’re so perfect, so good to me…”_ **

 

That sounded like a promise and, for Keith, it was sealed with the most intense orgasm of his life, his only shared sexual experience, which was repeated several times after that night.

 

* * *

 

**_[Shiro, 11:46 PM] I want to meet you, Keith, I do._ **

 

**_[Keith, 11:46 PM] then why dont u_ **

 

**_[Shiro, 11:47 PM] It’s a bit more complicated than just showing up at your doorstep, okay? I just need a little time. Please try to understand._ **

 

**_[Keith, 11:47 PM] we’ve been talking for months how fckin hard can it be to simply see you_ **

**_[Keith, 11:47 PM] can we at least videochat_ **

 

**_[Shiro, 11:52 PM] Maybe some other day, Keith. I’m sorry. Get some sleep now. You have class early tomorrow._ **

 

**_[Keith, 11:52 PM] right._ **

 

_ How do you even know this guy’s legit? _ Lance had asked earlier that day, over the cafeteria’s excuse of a lunch, at university. Keith had, of course, shrugged the question away by sipping on his lemonade; he had seen a few pictures of Shiro. Heard him on the phone. They texted from the moment they woke up until one of them succumbed to sleep at night. There was no reason to doubt, but his insecure mind kept going back to the possibility. What if…

 

_ Pretty smile, fine abs, similar interests, SOMEHOW cares about you… He’s just lookin’ a lil’ too perfect if you ask me, _ Lance had added, poking a few pieces of carrot to the edge of the plate with no intention of eating them later,  _ it can’t hurt to be sure. _

 

Shiro  _ was _ real. The dork smiling brightly on his phone screensaver, black forelock falling in front of stunning smoke-colored eyes… The man who said he loved him, the only one to make him feel like he wasn’t just some poor kid with big dreams...

 

… Fuck.

 

_ Realistically, Keith. Ever seen someone so handsome in this small Arizona town? _

 

Way past his bedtime, his tears were like shards of glass, reminding him of how fucking stupid dating apps were and how he was even more stupid to believe that anything good would come out of falling in love with a complete stranger. 

 

_ What if he’s not the guy in the pictures? The internet has a bunch of photos just asking to be used. Lying is easy, with a screen in between. _

 

His phone vibrated only once, and unlike the determined man he believed himself to be, he gave up on his resolve to not touch his phone until morning and immediately launched himself to see, it’s  _ him, it’s Shiro, it’s gotta be _ , but a YouTube notification popped up instead and his hand curled a bit too tightly around the device, his teeth gritting together. Against better judgement, Keith threw his phone to the wall across the bedroom, sure that it had been reduced to loose wires and broken parts, but fuck that, his heart was in pieces as well and there was no mending that.

 

* * *

 

Keith had logged into his email to check for updates on a job offer he had responded to the day prior. There was no way of guessing that this guy from a TV show, Nev Schulman, would have reached out to him with a request and contact to FaceTime. It looked like a scam thing, but a quick Google search on the guy made him relabel the situation from “super spam, remove immediately” to “only vaguely suspicious, let’s check it out”.

 

“Lance did  _ what _ ?” Keith’s eyebrows met in a dark frown, murderous intent clouding his twitching indigo eyes. He must look ridiculous glaring at the small rectangle with the frame of his frontal camera but his anger knows no consideration for how he’ll look before the two men he spoke to.

 

_ And that, folks, was the beginning of the demise of Lance McClain. _

 

_ “Your friend, uh… contacted us, the MTV Catfish crew, to help you with your online romance!” _ Nev and the other guy exchanged a look and checked their notes.  _ “Are we talking to the right Keith? Keith... Kogane? From Arizona? Dating someone named Shiro?” _

 

Oh, that was him, alright. And Lance would take his last breath the moment Keith’s hands encircled around that thin neck of his, his respiratory tract crushed by his thumbs, life draining out of that skinny body of his-- The ways he could torture Lance for sticking his nose in matters that didn’t concern him at all extended in a secondary tab in his mind, as he was forced to return to the main.

 

_ “Lance gave us quite a bit of information about you!” _ They spoke with a tremendous amount of amusement that Keith didn’t share. He was  **so** dead.  _ “Keith Kogane, twenty-three, majoring in Astrophysics, kinda emo, dog person, vegetarian, you sleep with your socks on--” _

 

“A bunch of useless info, that does sound like what he would share about me.” He commented more to himself, nodding to the words Nev recited from the email he had received, while Keith scrolled over his Google search about the TV show  _ Catfish _ . He had heard of it - who hadn’t, really, there were a bunch of memes about it. It was just so surreal that out of all the people who undoubtedly contacted the show, Keith’s case would be selected to be looked into.

 

On the Internet, he read:  _ a "catfish" is a person who creates fake personal profiles on social media sites using someone else's pictures and false biographical information to pretend to be someone other than themselves. These "catfish" usually intend to trick an unsuspecting person, or more, into falling in love with them. _

 

_ “So, what can you tell us about this guy you’re dating?” _ Max Joseph, the co-host, prompted and Keith’s heart rate momentarily stilled into a straight line.

 

The production team of the show was in charge of helping people around the world find their online loves. Did that mean they would… take him to Shiro? Whoever he was, wherever he was… They would analyse every little bit of data he could provide - from social media accounts to facts and aspects of Shiro’s life - and guide him to the man he had been talking to.

 

He bit on his lower lip, forcing a deep breath. If this was his chance, he would fucking take it.

 

“His name is Shiro... Takashi Shirogane. He’s Japanese, twenty-eight years old, lives a couple miles away from me, according to the app where we met, but... he never really moved his ass to come and meet me.”

 

Was that too aggressive? Jesus, could he take that back? If Shiro ever knew of this… what if he got creeped out and  _ disappeared _ on him? What if he never wanted to talk to Keith again after this public show of distrust? What if Keith lost the only person who had ever cared for him?

 

Worse than not knowing who he had been talking to, was not having him at all.

 

“We started dating almost two months ago.” He proceeded with a little less hesitancy. “It was something silly, I guess? It was… very private.”  _ Very us. _

 

_ “I want to know more about this, Keith. How about we fly down to Arizona, and by tomorrow morning we can meet somewhere? Your place, or some coffee shop…” _

 

Uh, he guessed so? He still couldn’t believe this was happening in the first place, let alone bring himself to thank these guys for their troubles before waving them goodbye and ending the call with a swipe of his thumb.

 

He allowed himself a couple moments of silence without moving from his desk, eyes digging holes on the wall before him. It was quite a lot to take in and he didn’t know how to process everything that has occurred . His phone shook with a notification.

 

**_[Shiro, 09:15 AM] Hey, baby. (/｡＼) Sorry about last night._ ** **_  
_ ** **_[Shiro, 09:15 AM]_ ** **_PICTURE RECEIVED. CLICK TO DOWNLOAD._ ** **_  
_ ** ****_[Shiro, 09:16 AM] Please accept my face as an apology. (´ε｀ )♡_

 

Keith’s chest corroded into a ball, air squeezed out of him the moment he laid eyes on the picture he had received. The face he had come to know as Shiro’s, perfect angles meeting in the right place to contour a gorgeous face with high cheekbones, a sharp jaw, beautiful lips forming a sad pout. He had probably just woken up, laying shirtless on his bed, looking up to the camera with an apologetic look, black hair covering his forehead.

 

**_[Shiro, 09:17 AM] I love you. (⺣◡⺣)♡♡_ **

 

Keith was too deep into this mess of a love story.

 

When he did get up it was to find his roommate, determined to punch a few purple bruises on Lance’s pretty face, phone left behind to send his reply.

 

**_[Keith, 09:19 AM] im sry as well. i shouldnt have acted like that. love u too._ **

 

* * *

 

“You should be thanking me!” Lance dodged the shoe that was thrown at him with practiced ease, making use of the lid of the trash can as a shield.

 

"Why would you have to go behind my back?! You always fucking do this!" Sadly there was a limit to how many shoes someone could wear, but it didn't take long for Keith to figure out something else to assault his roommate with; the TV remote would do. “It’s not within YOUR right to do something about MY life!”

 

“I’m just looking out for you!!” When the device flew over Lance’s head, cracked open against the wall and spat the two batteries, he gasped and peeked over his makeshift shield in utter incredulity. “CAREFUL, YOU PSYCHO!”

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Determined to shorten the distance between himself and his target, Keith paced forward, running around the kitchen island counter. He saw how Lance’s eyes widened when he moved past the unused twelve piece kitchen knife block set, a collection of possible murder weapons, sharpened to paper thinness. He considered grabbing one of the bigger ones, but he didn’t intend to go to jail over the murder of Lance McClain; he just wanted to hurt him really really bad. Beyond recovery, hopefully.

 

He body-slammed Lance, both of them rolling on the carpeted floor until the Cuban boy was trapped beneath Keith, face down and arm twisted behind his back. He put all of his weight on Lance, making sure every single bone in that skinny body felt it.

 

“AHH! I YIELD, MAN, I YIELD!” He begged and thrashed around, but it was futile when Keith was red in anger.

 

“Why would you do this?! You contacted a fucking reality show! You’re turning MY life and MY problems into cheap entertainment, how do you think that makes me feel! How do you think that makes Shiro and I look?!”

 

“HEY, you accepted their help! You coulda told ‘em off anyti-AH AH KEITH STOP THAT HURTS!”

 

When Keith loosened the grip, Lance began, voice a few octaves deeper. "In all seriousness, my dude. I'm just worried about you, you know? This guy... You're so into him. I’ve never seen your face break with a dorky smile as much before, you walk around like it’s springtime and the flowers are blooming only for you. And I hope I'm wrong about him being a catfish, I seriously do!”

 

“Fucktard.” Keith sighed, releasing the pressure on Lance and sitting with his back against the wall. This was insane.

 

“I know we're always butting heads, and you're a total butt, but I love you, Buttman. And I'd hate to see you get hurt over some guy online."

 

"Considerably hypocritical of you, who signed me up for that app in the first place." Keith dismissively spat, feeling a headache piercing through his forehead and hitting him right where it would lay a permanent dormancy the whole day.

 

Lance ignored the remark, having apparently grown too comfortable with his face against the floor to move. "I want this to work out between you guys as much as you do, really, dude, I do, but first, we need to know the truth.  _ You _ need the truth. And they’re the only ones who can help you right now." 

 

* * *

 

The  _ Catfish _ crew wasn’t kidding when they said they’d be at his address by the next day. The doorbell rang before nine in the morning, and he had to dress up with the first thing he could grab; the red shorts he had worn the day before and a vintage “I BELIEVE” T-shirt. 

 

“Vintage” only because it belonged to his dad once, and was in a horrible state, ripping at the seams. Still usable, though.

 

He had to kick his way to the door, opening a path between discarded pieces of clothing, soda cans and… is that…? Oh, that’s  _ GROSS, LANCE! _

 

By the time he opened the door, Nev was impatiently preparing to knock again, fist held up before he struck Keith with a bright smile and a tight handshake. The host introduced the whole gang, from his colleague Max to the producers and cameramen, and everyone involved in the show; he was surprised by the fact that he wasn’t met with a camera to the face, but of course that show-making was a little more complicated than spontaneously filming every second of an encounter. Before anything at all, a clipboard with a contract was presented to him.

 

“This contract grants us the permission to later broadcast your episode on television, but it is not, by any means, definitive. Both you and Shiro are real people and you’re exposing yourselves, making yourselves vulnerable, and we’re never going to force you to do it,” Nev guaranteed, gesturing as he spoke. “Just say the word, and we’re out. The episode is cancelled, we pack up, we leave. You’re not forced to go through with anything. Understood?”

 

Glaring at the piece of fancy paper, Keith sighed. Between him and Shiro, stood a signature. A quick scribble of his name. That was the easiest decision he ever had to make, quickly taking the pen offered by Max and writing it down.

 

_ Keith Daniel Kogane. _ His full name, as it appears in his ID. A compromise.

 

After that was dealt with, while the crew set up a few cameras around the already confined space of the living room, he was given a little while to clean up, just so that his shared apartment wouldn’t look like a complete dumpster.

 

* * *

 

It was ridiculous that they had to rehearse and shoot a scene where Keith welcomed them to his home, but that was part of the drill; it felt unnatural, but he was still surprised at how spontaneous Nev and Max were. No wonder the footage that was shown on TV looked so real, they were amazing actors, simulating their surprise upon meeting Keith for the “second first time”.

 

“Are you Keith?” Nev asked with a friendly smile. Keith needlessly shook hands with the hosts as he had been instructed to, after politely refusing a hug, and confirmed his identity with a nod.

 

“That’s me. Come in.”

 

The cameras were ready, so by the next frame they would be sitting on the patched-up couch, a pretend coffee table made of stacked books and a wooden board creating a larger space between them. Keith took some solace in that distance, taking a deep breath as he counted down until the cameras began rolling again.

 

“Walk us again through your story.” Nev urged, crossing his leg and adapting the silently judging stance of a psychologist, reading every twitch of his muscles, evaluating the veracity of the words that would come out of his mouth.

 

Okay, okay, Keith. You got this. The beginning-beginning.

 

"I suppose it all started when Lance, my roommate, signed me up to a stupid matchmaking app, as a prank. He stole my phone while I was sleeping, downloaded a dating app, and matched me with a bunch of local people; by the time I woke up I had dozens of messages, from men and women alike, saying we're a match and that they were interested in getting to know me."

 

"With friends like these..." Max joked behind his portable camera, the small lens pointed at Keith. The boy simply shrugged at that, glad that he didn't have to add that such frivolities were common between them and Keith's payback was ten times worse.

 

Let it remain unsaid that Lance never drank from an unattended and seemingly harmless mug again.

 

"Was Shiro one of the people who messaged you?"

 

"No, actually... I messaged him." Both TV hosts seemed surprised at that statement, and at the time, so had Keith been incredulous at his own self.

 

After finding out what Lance had done and getting his laxative-based revenge, the first order of action was to uninstall that cursed app. But curiosity got the best of him as it always did, and he found himself browsing the appealing interface of the application to try and understand it. Basically, it scanned the area around a certain radius looking for people who could, based on common checklists, want to hook up. Profiles would pop up on screen and the user would either be "interested" or "not interested"; if the user's answer matches the other, they're "a match" and unlock the chat feature with each other. From that point on it's their own game.

 

Having figured that much, Keith should have exited the app and removed it from his life. But one of the profiles stole his attention.

 

Takashi Shirogane.

 

"We matched and traded texts for a little while, I can't even remember what about, but it was nice." He smiled at the memory, how his eyes never left the screen, not even when his phone signalled its low battery. "Little while" had, in fact, translated into the whole night. "And then he said he had to head to class, and left his phone number so we could keep in touch."

 

"Head to class? So he's a student like you?"

 

"A teacher assistant, in fact." When Nev asked about heading there for answers regarding the doubtful identity of the stranger, Keith added, "At the Galaxy Garrison."

 

Nev and Max's eyes widened simultaneously and then nodded in understanding. That was only one of the most restricted places on Earth and as many were convinced, on the whole solar system. Getting a staff list wasn't exactly permitted.

 

"Which is very convenient for someone who doesn't want to be found." Ever the logical one, Max intervened.

 

Keith defensively held his breath, fingernails digging into the sweaty palms of his hands. That sort of accusation was to be expected, but it hurt, it hurt to think how likely it could all have been a cruel lie.

 

“I can’t wait to see this guy,” Nev rubbed his hands together, leaving the silent request under the layers of his smile. A little hesitant, Keith brought out his phone and put up Shiro’s Facebook profile, rather than granting Nev access to the gallery folder which contained the type of pictures he wouldn’t really enjoy seeing. 

 

_ Forgive me, Shiro, _ he mused in thought, closing his eyes as if that would help him abstract from the cameras pointed at them. 

 

“He’s very handsome…” Nev commented after a while, scrolling the social media page with a smirk, “Lots of Facebook friends… From  Tochikubo, Japan,  Doctorate in Astrophysics, by the Galaxy Garrison, and says he currently works there as a TA and flight instructor. Doesn’t post too regularly, though. He mostly shares charity events, animal rescue campaigns, Garrison propaganda... Last uploaded photo is from... four years ago?” He frowned. “That’s weird.”

 

“He’s not that into  _ Facebook _ ,” Keith commented, “he prefers phone calls and texting to wall posts and shit.”

 

“So you  _ have _ talked on the phone.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But you’ve never video-called?”

 

_ Got some work to catch up on. Maybe later. I’ll send you a photo instead, how about that? My camera isn't working. WiFi is being an ass, I can't connect. _ The excuses had been numerous, proportional to the arguments that came after the humble request. And Keith felt so dumb, so stupid for never having suspected that something was off about the whole situation.

 

“... No, we haven’t.” He replied a little too late, body sinking down into the couch and the confines of the Earth, the thick layers of lava engulfing him in the shame he felt. The red flags had been wagging with the wind, right in front of his face, and he still had refused to see it.

 

“From what I can gather here, it’s like they’re two completely different people. What could have changed, four years ago, to make him stop posting pictures with his friends, or sharing status updates-- Oh!” Nev exclaimed, flipping the phone to show Max and Keith a picture of Shiro with his  arm around a man, pulling the other closer to land a kiss on his mushed cheek.

 

Oh, yeah. Keith knew that asshole. Rather, Shiro had told him about his rocky relationship with Adam before, and that alone was enough for him to have a formulated opinion. As much of a good guy as Shiro was, he never really complained about Adam's tendency to be overly controlling of him, what he did ranged from always knowing where Shiro was, doing what and with whom, but Keith accompanied the separation process and knew of things Adam had said and done that made him utterly hate the guy.

 

It was justified hate; not jealousy.

 

_ Really. _

 

He thought Shiro had deleted those photos, but apparently, he hadn’t. Keith wasn't sure what to make of that.

 

“That’s his ex. No one important any longer.” Keith pouted, words coated in bitterness. Both Max and Nev picked up the sensitivity of the subject and merely exchanged a look between themselves.

 

“I think we’ve got a lot to work with here.” He finally said, returning the phone to a fidgety Keith. “Why don’t you send me an email with all your information about Shiro, and we’ll look into it and get back to you once we have some news?”

 

“Alright. I’ll do that.”

 

The cameras went offline, and Keith went on autopilot for as long as it took for the crew to wrap up the equipment and leave. Nev and Max might have attempted to chat with him a little to get to know more about the whole case, but Keith wasn't too invested in it, resuming his answers to vague nods and brief words.

 

Once they were finally gone, Keith leaned his back against the wooden door, letting his body slide down the surface until his ass met the floor, knees pulled up against his chest. Inside the pocket of his jacket, the phone vibrated with the intermittency of a call but he didn't have the energy to grab it and pick up.

 

He wanted it to be true. He wanted to be loved by someone like Shiro, he wanted to believe those words hadn't been just rubbish coming out of someone else's mouth. He wanted to go through with what they had promised to each other.

 

The voicemail wasn't heard until a couple hours later.

 

_ "Hey, baby, it's me. Well... you know that. You know it's me. Uh... I hope you're okay. I just called to check up on you. Hope you're having a good day. I love you... okay? Just... yeah. I love you so much, Keith. Always remember that. Call me back whenever you can." _

 

* * *

 

The TV show makes the research period seem so fast; but it wasn't until a week had passed that he was contacted again, via phone call. He was told to wait for a ride that would be taking him to some coffee shop across town to meet the pretend detectives and hear what they had to say and move on to the next phase.

 

On the backseat of a rented jeep, Keith's thumb caressed the black screen of his smartphone for no particular reason. He had refrained from talking with Shiro as much as he normally did, and the other hadn't particularly insisted either. It wasn't uncomfortable or unsettling per say, and there was a chance Keith was only imagining the subtext between their messages, but Shiro seemed hesitant, careful in the words he used. "Careful" was... scary.

 

Was he aware of the manhunt on him? Was he hiding something? Under the magnifying glass of the Catfish crew, every single word was suspicious, and Keith's heart didn't seem to know how to handle that. It was physically painful to doubt someone he loved. Maybe he had been the one giving off the impression that something was wrong and pushed Shiro away?  _ He hoped not. _

 

His fingers danced across the small screen to start up the messaging app, Shiro's conversation pinned at the top (the only other two were messages traded with Lance during class earlier that week, and his father, a bunch of missed call notices dated from a couple of weeks ago). He re-read the last few lines of the conversation, eyes delaying on the last text from his boyfriend:

 

**_[Shiro, 08:30 AM]_ ** **_Have a good Saturday, baby. Love you._ **

 

Unsure of what he would discover once the jeep pulled to a stop, Keith regretfully dwelled on the lack of the characteristic Japanese text emojis he had grown used to seeing at the end of every sentence Shiro sent.

 

Keith didn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

The place didn’t open until ten but had exclusively opened doors to receive the publicity implied with an episode of Catfish. The waiters looked particularly bothered for having to wake up so early, but the manager, on the other hand, excitedly took on general chores, bringing in the trays and commenting with the crew. He was silenced by the producer with a gesture as Keith was gestured into the range of the cameras.

 

"Keith! My man!" Nev stretched on the chair, simultaneously waving in an awkward curving position. How long had he been there? It occurred to him that maybe he was just putting up an act for the camera. Of course, he was. Before him and Max laid a generous selection of toasts with the most varied fillings, pastries and three mugs of coffee; Keith only hoped one of them was for him, he could really use a little energy boost after pulling himself out of bed so early.

 

“Morning, guys.” He saluted, sitting on the empty chair between the other two.

 

“Help yourself to some breakfast,” thank  _ GOD _ , you wouldn’t have to tell Keith twice, “and buckle up, we have a lot to go through before we move on to the next stage.”

 

“Sounds intense already,” he sighed, sipping on the heavenly beverage. “What you got?”

 

A little while of setting up the laptop and attempting to tame Keith’s bed hair followed, a few minutes that would later be edited out of the final footage. In the meantime, he finished munching one of the vegan cream cheese and avocado toasts and the coffee had nearly vanished from the mug. Could he ask for a refill?

 

“We started by looking up the phone number you provided and obtained no results. This probably means it’s an unregistered, prepaid card. Happens a lot, and since you mentioned his line of work, it’s not really that surprising that it wouldn’t be trackable.”

 

“Okay.” Keith nodded; seemed plausible enough since he recalled Shiro mentioning his card was tied to the Galaxy Garrison, and though he could use it as a personal number it still belonged to the restrict circle of the base.

 

“Then we proceeded to google some of the pictures you sent us,” Max explained as Nev repeated the action with the most recent photo Shiro had sent, of him partially hiding on his pillow, a little pout on his lips. It was dragged onto Google Images search engine, and after a few seconds, some results popped up, however unrelated to the picture itself.

 

“This photo only triggered some keywords, like  _ handsome _ ,  _ man _ , and  _ sexy _ .”

 

“They ain’t wrong,” Keith commented and smirked a little. It felt like a small victory.

 

“Then... we tried this one...”

 

A shy, shirtless mirror selfie, after one of Shiro’s frequent workout sessions. That had been taken like, three weeks ago... but the date on the post went so much further back than that. Keith frowned. Those were way too many results for a photo that should have been private.

 

"There were several profiles in all types of social media under different names, but this one, in particular, seems to be the “original pit”... a major source for several catfishes." Nev gestured. "It's the oldest profile of the ones we found, unattended for years, forgotten in time, with the most available, downloadable pictures."

 

The profile photo… Keith had asked for it. He received it only with a little delay and he was only slightly ashamed to admit that that had been his selected wallpaper for a few weeks. How many more people had done the same? The thought made him nauseous. Nev and Max apprehensively kept quiet for a bit, clicking one of the results to an old social media no one really used anymore; an internet dinosaur. Its peak dated back to around six, seven years back, and accordingly, the profile hadn’t been updated since.

 

“We were lead to this MySpace profile, under the nickname  _ BlackLion01 _ . Sounds familiar?”

 

"Uh... I..." Keith stuttered, shaking his head. Fuck, no, that wasn't familiar at all, Black was Shiro's limping cat but Keith had witnessed her rescue from the streets, there was no way he could have based his name out off her, almost six years ago. His eyes barely followed the scrolling, all of the pictures he had seen, pictures that were  _ his _ and no one else's, full versions of cropped examples he had received.

 

Lies,  _ lies _ , everything he had heard, everything he had read and seen, the photos, the voice, it was fake.

 

Were the feelings enacted too? To what fucking purpose, what type of fucked up hype could one receive from this? The little food he had, had traveled all the way back to his mouth in the form of a bitter bile. Keith's jaw clenched, fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, his eyes dead-set on the screen but the tears made it hard to make out any proper statuses and posts, soon blurring the pictures as well and  _ Shiro _ , or whoever that was, what a fucking liar, liar,  _ LIAR _ \--

 

A hand steadied on his shoulder, which he automatically jerked away without thinking; Max understood the defensiveness, but still tried to soothe the young man with words.

 

“I know this is being really hard for you. But we’re not seeing the full picture, we still don’t know who Takashi Shirogane is, or who this  _ BlackLion _ is. There must be an explanation. You came this far, Keith, might as well learn the whole truth.”

 

The host nodded before adding, in a low voice, “The next step is... calling this guy. Push him against the wall and give him an ultimatum. He either meets up with us, no excuses, or it’s over.”

 

What was there left to lose, anyway?

 

With Keith’s consent, Nev typed Shiro’s phone number on his smartphone, getting up and heading to the entrance of the establishment to proceed with the call. Keith’s eyes followed the host’s footsteps, saw how his lips were still pressed together in a line, he’s not picking up, for sure, he’s running away--

 

_ Hello? _ Keith wasn’t too much of a lip reader, but that much he gathered. For his own anxiety’s sake, he dropped his head, focusing instead on how he was unaware that his leg had been trembling the entire time. Resting his palm over his knee, he tried holding it still. 

 

Who the fuck was Takashi Shirogane? Some old creeper? A stranger looking for some type of twisted fun? Someone he  _ knew _ ? Was he even from Arizona? The guy who nestled so comfortably within Keith’s heart, the ghost on the other side of the connection... He rubbed his eyes; what a  _ fucking _ nightmare.

 

Nev returned, lips curved upwards. It was Max who asked, “So? What did he say?”

 

“Tomorrow at noon. He should text us an address soon. That’s it for today, Keith. We’ll take you home, you let it sink in and prepare yourself for what’s to come. Sounds good?”

 

The crew announced the end of the recordings and began wrapping things up, thanking the coffee manager for his availability and promising to return under different and less hurried circumstances.

 

Keith’s heart weighed him down, each step twinging on his head. He was guided outside and into the car, though he only realized so once the vehicle pulled to a stop at the entrance of his apartment complex.

 

"What if he's... not real?" Keith murmured the question so quietly that only Nev, next to him, could hear it. He didn't bother to reciprocate the gaze, opting to keep his eyes down, as if the tiled flooring suddenly became a hundred times more interesting with its intricate cornucopia pattern.

 

Nev had been through it before, first-hand; he felt the disappointment of a lie - several lies - stinging the deepest layer of his thick skin. As a spectator as well, Nev witnessed the heartbreak he was experiencing, in other people, he must know how to help. He saw expectations rise and resolves being crushed under concrete evidence. No one knew it better than Nev and soon… So would Keith.

 

“He  _ is  _ real, Keith. Even if Shiro doesn’t look like you think he does, he’s still someone who I believe cares a lot about you. Whatever happens, don’t throw that away.”

 

Keith nodded slowly, though he only half-heard it, focusing instead on the welcoming pressure of a hand on his shoulder. The following day would be the last day of his life as he knew it, no matter the outcome.


	3. iii.

**_iii._ **

 

The door opened and Keith might have died a little.

 

“You’re… Shiro? Takashi Shirogane?” Nev asked to the darkness of the house and Keith saw the shadow - a tall, bulky shadow - nodding.

 

Someone stepped out. Dark jeans, grey muscle tee, a couple of colorful bracelets adorning one of the wrists. It was so much easier to notice the little things, like the rips on the denim, the Galaxy Garrison patch on the shirt, so much easier than to take in the whole image at once and face the angle of that jaw, the perfection of those high cheekbones, the tear of those titanium colored eyes, the white section of his hair, the scar across the nose... the… metal... of his arm…?

 

_ What the fuck. _

 

Heartstrings ceasing their activity, eyes widening in disbelief, Keith Kogane might have died more than just a little. It’s him.  _ It’s him, it’s him, it’s  _ **_him._ **

 

Keith was not a poet, not by a longshot, but the stars had to have aligned to conspire the existence before him. Shiro was intimidating, almost, for all types of reasons; the prosthetic that replaced one of his arms, for one, it glistened under the lazy morning sun, an impressive piece of technology Shiro vainly attempted to hide on his side as he walked. Was he embarrassed...? Also, he was so bloody tall, a head or two towering over Keith, large shoulders worthy of a rugby player, proportions of a godly entity, but what intimidated him the most was the fact that Shiro was fucking  _ real _ . The ghost of his fantasies, the man of his dreams, the boyfriend he was afraid to trust to be his...

 

Shiro -  _ him, holy Jesus _ \- was guided to stand in front of Keith and Max, the cameras looking for the best approach to capture their faces, to announce the big reveal to the loyal followers of the TV show. Even Keith could hear a certain song in the background, the soundtrack of what could have either been the happiest or the most embarrassing moment of his entire life.

 

“This is my buddy, Max.” Shiro saluted the co-host with a nod and a strong handshake, before turning to Keith. When their eyes met, Keith gasped silently, automatically leaning back and retreating his gaze.

 

_ Too much. Too bright. Too real, Keith couldn’t breathe, oh-- oh God. _

 

“And... Keith.” Nev gestured towards him, a satisfied smile ripping at his features like never before. “Well, you know Keith.”

 

Shiro sucked in a breath as if he was preparing to speak and,  _ had Keith proclaimed his own death already? _ If not, this was the moment when his soul abandoned his body for good. Shiro’s lips were moving, his voice swarming around Keith but he couldn’t understand a word, much less make sense of the sentences that flew the lips he had been craving to kiss. A voice he had only heard across the phone engulfed him in a feeling he couldn’t quite categorize.

 

Death. Yes, he was dead.

 

“Keith… There are some things I… didn’t tell you... as you can see.”

 

Well,  _ indeed _ , and yet it had nothing to do with the creepy alternatives Keith had conjured in his mind the night before; not a middle-aged NEET, not a girl, not anyone he knew trying to pull a prank on him. The face was the same as the pictures, except for the thick scar that cut a line across his nose; he may have looked younger in the photos too, since the man before him had the circles under his eyes and the lines of his smile more harshly carved in his face.

 

_ His beautiful, beautiful face. _

 

Keith struggled to connect the dots while simultaneously unscrewing the bolts that held his jaw tight. He needed to speak, to say something, but his teeth hurt and the ache spread to his head. This was too much to take in and he was so dizzy, and Shiro was real, his heart couldn’t keep up with real time.

 

“We’ll leave you two alone to talk for a bit.” Their mediator stepped in hesitantly, before suggesting that they go somewhere more private. There was some explaining to be done, some apologies to be said, and Keith’s belly rumbled with knife-winged butterflies trying to carve they way out the harsh way.

 

The cameras were put down only for the amount of time it took to carry and settle them in the backyard, around an old loveseat swing. Keith sat first, while a member of the staff wired up a minuscule microphone on Shiro. The youngster couldn’t help but to notice the brushes of scarred skin when the producer lifted Shiro’s shirt to hide the mic; clearly the man was uncomfortable with the reveal, the proximity, the touch, but kept a straight face throughout, holding his breath for the sake of keeping it convenient for everyone involved. He nodded when the man was done and calmly walked towards Keith.

 

He was definitely  _ not  _ calm but tried to appear so nonetheless, so Keith gave him the satisfaction of pretending he believed in such an act.

 

He sat next to Keith, biting his lower lip and keeping his eyes down. They swung a bit on the loveseat, Shiro’s legs controlling the motion and Keith found himself disregarding the grip of the carbon fiber prosthetic arm on the sides of the seat in favor of dwelling on the fact that Shiro  _ was _ real, however different, still real.

 

_ One thing at a time _ , he thought to himself, as all of his senses were overrun by Shiro’s presence.

 

“Before anything else, I want to tell you that everything I told you regarding myself, my past, my feelings towards you… All that is true.” Shiro exhaled with little relief before proceeding, “It  _ was _ me in the pictures, they just don’t represent the way I look like... right now. I was somewhere between eighteen and twenty-three in them. After the accident, I lost my arm, I was in a coma for a year and a half, and…” He gestured to the white floof of hair covering his forehead, then to his prosthetic limb, “this happened.  _ Marie Antoinette _ syndrome, or something like that. My friend Matt says it’s because I dove head first into the world of the dead and got pulled back just before they got the rest of me. They said I was healed, but I don’t think I ever truly recovered from the whole experience. I thought it would be a matter of time, that my anxiety and guilt would disappear, but time passed faster than I could keep up to it and I didn’t even stand to look at myself in the mirror. I was embarrassed, repulsed by my own face.”

 

The cameras had started rolling and Keith only realized so when he looked up from his lap. It seemed they were expecting some sort of answer from him, but he merely acknowledged Shiro’s words with a minor nod, unable yet to look at him. There were questions to be asked, but Shiro was babbling out the answers already.

 

“I had an account on the app  _ before _ the accident. When I finally decided it was time to uninstall it, I got your message…” He chuckled, nervously scratching the bridge of his scarred nose with his flesh hand. “Well, you can figure out the rest. It wasn’t really that easy to casually reveal that I had had a near-death experience which made a portion of my hair grow white, that I had lost an arm, and that those pictures you had already seen weren’t… updated. I just rolled along with it, I know I shouldn’t have, but I guess it was a bit easier to pretend I was still okay. That I wasn’t just a broken, handicapped man. That I was whole.”

 

The constellations on Keith’s lashes were blinked away when his gaze finally met Shiro’s; destiny felt right into place and his heart might have stopped, but Keith wasn’t able to look away.

 

“I wasn’t planning to lie forever, Keith. I just needed a little more time and I would come clean about everything. I wasn’t being fair to you and our relationship, I was selfish enough to ask you to be my boyfriend but I could never muster the balls to tell you I’m nothing but broken pieces, the little that’s left of the man you f-... fell in love with. And that part is true, Keith, I love you more than I can ever put to words.”

 

This man… This  _ ridiculous _ man. 

 

“You… didn’t say a word yet.” Shiro underlined over the silence, prosthetic fingers drumming on the wooden armrest of the slowly rocking swing. Keith was momentarily lost in that rhythm, enjoying the wind in his face and letting himself go with the motion of the swing.

 

“You could have told me… I don’t… I don’t really care.” He said honestly, and he didn’t, he didn’t care. Not to excuse Shiro’s lie, but Keith could understand where he had come from, he could understand the lack of self-esteem, the regret, the fear of rejection and abandonment.

 

_ Adam had left, so Keith would too. _

 

“... Deep down, I knew you wouldn’t. I just… needed a  _ way _ to go about telling you. I wanted it to be fair to you, but mostly...” He laughed without any sort of amusement, “I was terrified. I lost so much, and the thought of losing you as well...”

 

“Was the thought of lying to me any better?” Keith’s voice came out like the edge of a knife, but he turned his body to Shiro, facing him properly.

 

“ _ No _ , Keith. Definitely not. Don’t ever think this was easy for me...” Shiro begged, rubbing at his face as if holding back the tears nobody else could see. “Every single day, I thought of a way to tell you but I cowarded away from it. What we have, it’s so good… You’re so good to me and I don’t deserve you.”

 

“It’s selfish of me to ask you to forgive me, but that’s why I agreed to do all this TV show thing. This forced me out of a spider web of lies I couldn’t untangle myself out of, but now it’s out and… it’s up to you to decide where to take this. You now know who I am.” He gestured vaguely to his surroundings. “You know where I live, what I do, what I lost and what I have to give. And I hope you know that I love you, Keith. I don’t want to force you into anything, I’ll give you as much time as you need to consider this whole situation and whatever you decide, I’ll accept it.” 

“Maybe we should give it a little time to… let the dust settle.” Nev intervened, cutting through the ambience Keith was just getting used to. “We could maybe meet again? Tomorrow, or in a few days?”

 

Shiro agreed immediately and thanked both hosts for allowing him to publicly come clean. They kept their chat brief, and Keith was guided to the car like a lifeless, dumbstruck puppet.

 

Time.  _ More _ time. Time to think and then decide. Time to put feelings aside and analyze the new information, time to weigh out the truth and lie factors. Time to update the mental image he already had of someone important. Time to look back over his shoulder and reminisce on what little time they had known each other, how it hadn’t been that long since they started talking and how they fell in love in such a short amount of time. The time they could have spent differently, the time in the past and the time they may or may not have ahead.

 

Time was a ridiculous thing to put in between important things, and their relationship had had enough of it as it was.

 

Max held the door open for him, but Keith didn’t enter the car. There was something he had no  _ time _ to delay any further because  _ tomorrow _ was always too late and it was about damn time that they did what had to be done.

 

“Wait.” He turned on his heels and paced diagonally across the lawn, towards Shiro. He looked as startled as the crew did; the cameras, which had been lowered to terminate the shooting for the day, had been picked back up with haste to keep up to Keith’s spontaneity.

 

Once he stood mere inches away from the taller man, he spoke.

 

“So. Will you do it?” Keith shifted his weight from foot to foot, swinging where he stood just because he couldn’t bring himself to stay still.

  
Shiro adorably tilted his head in honest confusion. “Excuse me?”

 

“You always said you would kiss me as soon as you saw me. And hug me. And never let me go.” He smiled too when he saw the tone of Shiro’s cheeks darkening to a reddish hue. “You said, nothing changed for you. So. Here I am. Will you do it now?”

 

“I... really want to. I’d like that very much.” Shiro chuckled lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “If that’s okay with you…?”

 

There was a lot of making up to be done; all the wasted time playing games, running away and shying from the truth. Keith was a whole world with worlds within, and the whole solar system inside him met Shiro’s own galaxy at the tip of their lips, the brush of their tongues. With Shiro’s arms lifting him by the waist, his own hanging around his shoulders, gripping onto the fabric of each other’s being, the kiss was a good start.

 

_ Yeah. It was a  _ **_very_ ** _ good start. _


	4. iv.

**_iv._ **

The sound of an incoming Skype call made Keith open his eyes, groan against the pillow and tap the mattress next to his head, looking for his cellphone. His vision was blurred so he had to squint to make out the name of the caller.

Ah.  _ Nev _ . Right. Punctual as ever, the Catfish crew called at nine in the morning, patiently waiting for Keith to pick up. Might as well get it over with.

Sitting up with his back against the headboard and pulling the sheets over his bare legs, Keith didn’t even bother to comb his hair with his fingers, holding the phone before his face and accepting the incoming call.

**_“Heeeeeeeeyyy!!!”_ ** Nev and Max saluted, occupying the entire video chat window with their faces.  **_“How are you Keith?”_ **

“Heyyy,” Keith laughed, rubbing the sleep away from his eye. “I’m alright, just woke up.”

Three months had passed since Keith had last seen Nev and Max; this checkup had been agreed upon, They asked about Lance (particularly if Keith hadn’t actually gone through with his promise to murder his roommate), about school and his family.

There wasn’t too much to tell, though. Well, nothing besides...

**_“What about Shiro?”_ ** They looked at him expectantly, leaning into their camera as if Keith was about to whisper a secret.

“He’s… okay.” Keith took a little pleasure in prolonging the suspense with a smirk across his lips. He looked up from his phone towards the bathroom door, where his stunning boyfriend stood, leaning against the frame, a towel hanging low on his hips. His body glistened with droplets of water, the muscles of his flesh arm so magnificently flexing as he used a second towel to scrub his hair dry. Perhaps without noticing, he bit on his lower lip. “He should be finishing his shower now.”

**_“He’s there?!”_ ** Nev asked, voice shrieking with excitement, and Shiro’s smile widened. He walked to the bed, settling himself next to Keith and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. His wet hair tickled Keith at the contact, and the youngster settled comfortably against Shiro, angling the camera differently to fit both of them in the limited frame. **_“Ohhh!!!”_ **

“Good morning, guys.” Shiro waved, cheeks reddened and not only because of the steam of the shower.

**_“I see you’re both doing well!”_ **

Indeed they were. After the shooting period ended, they had kept in touch, and very literally too, taking their relationship to the next step; a step that should have been taken long ago, which involved meeting regularly, going out on dates, and sooner than later, it involved kissing and touching and loving the living shit out of each other.

Nev and Max delivered the news that the episode would be broadcasted within the week and Keith made a point to forget the date, just so he wouldn’t remember it when Lance asked. There was no need to make a big deal out of it when they were in a much better place right now.

Shiro’s bed, for instance, was a much better place than where he was, three months ago.

The call ended with a bunch of goodbyes, best wishes, and a few waves from both sides. The Skype mobile app closing when Keith pressed the home button of his smartphone. The device was put away on the bedside table and Keith let out a sigh, his arm flopping over Shiro’s stomach as he cuddled to his lover’s side. “So that’s that.”

“That’s that.” Shiro hummed in agreement, letting Keith nuzzle on his jaw to make him tilt his head backwards, allowing him access to kiss his way down an already bruised neck; Keith held some pride in the purplish love bites he painted Shiro’s sunkissed skin with, on his throat, chest, and, hidden by the black bath towel, his thighs as well.

“I wonder if they noticed,” mused Shiro, running his fingers through Keith’s onyx colored hair, in a soft massage that made him purr.

“They probably did.” Keith dwelled on the low rumble of Shiro’s chuckle, nails softly scratching their way down shower-damp skin, feeling the bumps and depressions of that beautiful body, marked by events outside of his control but empowered by the stubborn clutch of survival.

“I love you,” he whispered with fondness, delaying a kiss to Keith’s forehead.

To think that Keith had even doubted that fact for a second… How foolish of him.  _ His _ Shiro, with no more screens in between. His Shiro, with the intensity of a stare and the grip of a touch, the taste of a tongue and the embrace of the arms he had only ever dreamt of. Takashi Shirogane was real, and so very much  _ his _ .

“Love you too, Shiro.”


End file.
